


this is my body, given to you

by tellmescience



Category: Christian Bible (New Testament)
Genre: GASP judas.. NO!!!, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:01:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23439634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tellmescience/pseuds/tellmescience
Summary: Woe to the man who betrays the son of man.
Relationships: Jesus Christ/Judas Iscariot
Comments: 2
Kudos: 47





	this is my body, given to you

**Author's Note:**

> written by my Shadow Agent: funny and clever, the sherlock to my molly, the stiles to my jughead, and far too busy to bother with things like fanfiction. (the fact that she wrote some is, apparently, inconsequential.) but here i am to make her art widely accessible, with her permission. 
> 
> be warned that although it's not all that graphic, we all know how their story ends, and it's not cheerfully.

_Please, God, let her pass peacefully. Hold her close to you._

Judas felt his jaw tremble, his cheeks were tight and his chest was aching but he refused to cry. He held her as her breathing slowed, and felt his own chest tighten as he struggled to keep himself present and happy for her, so her last sight was his proud, smiling face. _You did so well._

“I can heal her.”

Judas felt his shoulders tense, he hadn’t heard any shifting of the sand, hadn’t heard anyone come up. He glanced behind him, and saw the shins of a man. 

“Are you a doctor?”

“No. I can heal her for you.” 

“She was bitten by something wicked. I should have put her out of her misery but I cannot. I am spineless and-” Judas shut his mouth, and grimaced. “Just leave us, please.”

The man stepped closer. “Who is she to you?”

Judas closed his eyes. This man would surely think him weak if he were truthful. “Nothing. I found her here, like this. I don’t want her to be alone.” It was the truth. Hopefully now this man would leave. 

Judas stroked another hand through her mane and rolled her ear between his thumb and pointer finger. Her breathing was so shallow it had nearly stopped. He smiled down at her and she stared up at him from his lap. 

The man was quiet, and then shifted to move around Judas, and crouched down in front of him, rested a hand on her cheek. Judas did not look up.

They sat there for a few moments, and Judas felt oddly content at the fact that someone else had come to be with them in her moment of passing, to help guide her to the realm of God. 

Slowly, her eyes slipped closed, and he heard himself make a choking noise before finally allowing tears to fall from his eyes. He glanced up at the man, and saw that his eyes were closed, and he was smiling. Judas looked back down at her, watched the rise and fall of her ribs. The continuous rise and fall. The steady rise and fall. The deep rise and fall. 

What the fuck. 

Judas shifted his gaze to the man, who had now opened his eyes, and was staring down at where his thumb stroked her behind the ears. 

“She is resting.”

“What the fuck.”

“I said I would heal her.” The man looked up at him, and Judas couldn’t help but take note of the depth and warmth of his dark brown eyes. Was this man a priest of some kind? A rabbi? Judas had seen a rabbi perform a spiritual healing on a woman, once. But this… 

Judas looked at her hind leg, and was amazed to see that the bite was shrinking, the pus and blood had simply disappeared. 

“How? How did you do that? Is she really okay? When will she wake?” 

The man smiled at him. “She will wake soon.” He stood up, never breaking eye contact with Judas. Judas stared up at him, taking in the way his dark hair curled around his ears, and how the sun behind him made him look like nothing short of an angel. 

“Are you an angel?”

At that the man threw his head back and laughed. “No, no I am not an angel. I do like that, though. An angel.” He chuckled again, and Judas noticed he had dimples. 

The head on his lap suddenly moved, and he heard a loud whinny. He removed his hands from her just in time for her to shift around, struggling to get up. He stood up and moved to help her stand, and the man did the same. 

When she finally stood upright, she whinnied again and tossed her mane, stomping a few times before trotting off, without a single glance behind. Judas smiled, felt the way his skin pulled at the drying tears on his cheeks. He glanced at the men and found him smiling, too. 

“What’s your name?”

“Jesus.”

“I’m Judas. Judas Iscariot.”

“Nice to meet you, Judas Iscariot.”

“You too, Jesus No Surname.”

“I am from Nazareth.”

“I see. You are very interesting, Jesus of Nazareth.” 

They smiled at each other for a while, and at this point Judas couldn’t be bothered to ask what he was. The man, still smiling, gave a sharp nod and moved to walk away. Judas felt something like disappointment, but said nothing as he began to walk over to where he had dropped his bags. 

“Judas,” Jesus said, quietly. Judas turned around. 

“Yes?”

Jesus met his eyes, “Do you have a family?”

Judas startled, but quickly collected himself. “No. My mother died in labor. I never knew my father. My surname is my mother’s.”

Jesus nodded, and glanced away for a second. Judas felt hopeful, and didn’t know why. 

“I am living my life,” said Jesus, “with some friends. They are in Judea now, resting. We are… looking to help people. I have abilities that most do not, some thoughts and beliefs that I have been told are new and impressive and will be good for people to hear. If you have no family, and if you would want to, I invite you to join us.”

Judas maintained eye contact, and raised his eyebrows. 

“We are a lively bunch. We like to speak to each other about anything and everything. They help me find people to help, help tell people what I think and know about… well about all of it, really. Everything.”

Judas grimaced, “Like Plato.”

Jesus smiled, “No, not quite like Plato.”

Judas stared at him, watched the way his lips stretched and his cheeks rose, giving his eyes a crescent shape and making his dimples appear again. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes. Yes, just let me go home first. I will need some things.”

“Of course, I will go with you.”

Judas liked being alone, liked his privacy, liked having things that no one else saw or touched. His room was one of those things. Now, though, as Judas looked at Jesus, he decided he would be okay letting Jesus see his room, see the painting he kept on his walls and the berries he hung at his window. 

Judas smiled, “Okay.”

***

Jesus walked and the disciples followed. Judas melded with them fast, found himself enjoying the way James took to waking them all up with the flute, the way the three brothers jested and teased each other. He even came to appreciate Simon’s annoying philosophical pondering. Most of all, he enjoyed the way Jesus would smile at him, and touch their pinkies when they stood next to each other, and whisper his thoughts when Judas stayed awake with him. He would always say he couldn’t sleep, but really he just wanted to listen, wanted to be the one Jesus spoke to. The only one he spoke to, for once.

Judas felt a hand touch his shoulder, and lifted his head to see Simon looking at him, a question in his eyes. Judas had been particularly light headed recently. He nodded at Simon, flashes a small smile, and Simon looked away, looked back at where Jesus stood, cradling a man in his arms. 

Judas glanced at the crowd, the way they all looked at Jesus with admiration, with awe, with hope. With familiarity. With ownership. They have been in this town for weeks now, healing and helping left and right. Jesus had confessed to Judas that he had wanted to leave last week, but then an old woman had asked to have her ankle healed so she could travel to see her relatives, and, well, here they are. 

Jesus glanced up from the man’s broken femur and made eye contact with Judas. Judas tried to smile, but he knew it came across as forced. Jesus tried to smile back, but the exhaustion in his eyes was obvious. His lips were paler than usual. His hand shook. Judas looked away. 

***

“They said you were a miracle worker, a preacher.”

“Those are things he has never claimed to be,” said Peter. 

“Well, you help people, right? I need help.” 

Judas looked at the jewels on the man’s fingers, saw the entitled look in his eyes, and the indignation in his tight frown and slanted eyebrows. He tried not to roll his eyes. These sorts of people were becoming more and more common. 

“With what? Securing the purchase of another ruby?”

“Bartholomew,” said Jesus.

Bartholomew scoffed, and turned and left the room. Matthew, James, and Andrew followed. 

Jesus watched them go, then turned to the man. “What do you need help with?”

The man sighed, “The poor keep asking for handouts, some woman came by with a baby just this morning and asked for some bread.”

Jesus stared at him. 

“And?”

“And I want them to stop. You can tell them, they will listen to you, you can tell them about hard work and being grateful for what you have and all that.”

Jesus stared at him. 

“... Is there a problem? I can pay you if that’s what you want. I can pay for a night with a woman.”

“There is no room in Heaven for the incessantly greedy and selfish.” 

“I’m sorry?”

“There is no room in Heaven for people who refuse to give, to help, for people who see themselves above all others and have no care for their earthly siblings.”

“Excuse me?”

Jesus shook his head, and rose from his chair. “I will not help you,” he said, and swiftly walked towards the door, glancing at Judas, and brushing his hand along his forearm as he left. Judas followed him, ignoring the man’s outraged threats of violence. 

He followed Jesus to where he stood under a tree, watching Bartholomew, Matthew, James, and Andrew sit and talk in the grassy area behind the house, some hundred meters away. 

“They take advantage of you.”

“I know.”

Judas stared at him, looked at the shadows under his eyes and the downward slope at the edges of his mouth. He looked older than he did five years ago. His eyes were just as warm. 

“We should leave this place. You need to rest.”

“People are sick.”

“And you are tired.”

Jesus turned his head and looked at Judas, and they watched each other for a moment. Jesus grabbed Judas by his hand and moved to sit down, pulling Judas with him. 

“Are you well, Judas?”

Judas blinked. “Yes, Jesus. I am well. Why do you ask?”

Jesus glanced back at the house, saw the rest of the apostles filter out as the man stormed away, hand glittering in the setting sun. They all hovered by the doorway, and then moved to join the other four. Judas and Jesus sat and watched them from under the tree. They sat quietly for a moment. 

“You seem to have something weighing on you recently. Are you unhappy?”

Judas stared down at their connected hands. “No, I am not unhappy. I am angry and discontent with the way you let these people treat you, as though you are a magician only here to save them from their ailments. You are a person too, Jesus. You should not let them treat you like this.”

Jesus sighed, moved his head to rest against the back of the tree, and crossed his legs. He kept their hands interlocked.

“It would be cruel of me to not help them. I have the means to. My father gave me these abilities for a reason, to help and to teach.”

“You teach and they do not listen. You tell them to love each other and respect each other and the minute you leave they go back to hitting their wives and mocking the poor and ignoring the sick.”

“I believe they will learn one day,” whispered Jesus, “I have to.”

Judas has heard all of this before, of course. He shifted closer to Jesus, tapped his thigh so he would uncross his legs and make room next to him against the tree trunk. Judas pressed their legs together and swallowed, took a deep breath. 

“Have I?”

Jesus rolled his head over to look at him, “Have you what?”

“Have I learned?”

His eyes widened, but Judas refused to break eye contact.

“Judas,” he began, voice soft. 

“No,” said Judas, “it was silly of me to ask anyway. I am still just a human, after all. Flaws and all of that. Sinful.” 

Jesus looked at him a moment longer, before finally turning again to look at the rest of the group. His dark hair still curled around his ears, and Judas still thought he looked like an angel. He thought of the mare. She was probably dead by now. 

“She lived a full life.”

Judas chuckled, “I hate when you do that, you freak.”

Jesus looked back at him and grinned, before looking away again and clearing his throat. He stood up, never breaking their hands apart, and Judas followed. 

***

Jesus had somehow managed to become a fugitive, wanted for blasphemy and such. Judas couldn’t be bothered to care. He was angrier than usual, these days. 

Jesus had continued to heal and help and teach, even as people were after him. He had rested in Galilee, though he rarely spoke during that time. But now, as people came to visit and ask for him, he appeared and helped again.

Judas knew he was being spiteful and cruel, glaring too much at those who stared at Jesus with gratefulness, declared him the true son of God and lavished his hands with kisses. Jesus always smiled at them, saying nothing. He looked so tired. 

Judas could not sleep anymore, his thoughts dominated by his own good and his own evil and his own love and his own spite. He had once sat with a mare, hoping to ease her into her transition to live with God. Now, he could not help but spit insults and cruel words at those who demanded so much of Jesus. He belonged to everyone, now. Judas supposed he always had. He tried to think about how they don’t know him like he does, not really, but he knew that he would never really know Jesus, never really understand. 

He wanted nothing more than to understand.

***

“You are one of the followers of Jesus Christ, are you not?”

Judas swallowed, felt panic in his chest, “I was.”

The priest huffed, “Do not lie to me, boy.” The man next to him shifted, placed his hand back on his sword. He must have been some kind of guard. 

“I do not lie. I have stopped following him, I do not know where he is.”

They had found him while he bought apples. He still held one in his hands. He wonders if this counts as stealing. 

“We can pay you,” said the priest.

Judas wanted to laugh, but he was scared he would start crying. He was so scared. 

“I do not know where he is.”

“Thirty pieces of silver.”

“I said I do not know where he is. Maybe he has died.”

The priest narrowed his eyes, “You can be punished for keeping him from us. He needs to face a trial for his crimes.”

“I know, and I do not know where he is. I will come and find you if I see him. I will report it, I swear. I will tell someone.”

As the two walked away, Judas felt his eyes get wet and tried to stop his hand from shaking. He had always been spineless. He had only ever been brave if it was for Jesus. 

***

Judas stared down at Jesus, who knelt and washed his feet.

“Love one another as I have loved you,” Jesus whispered. 

Judas was horrified, there was no other word for it. Jesus did not belong there, serving him. 

Jesus paused, and looked up at Judas, “I do, Judas.” He smiled.

“I hate when you do that,” Judas whispered, before looking away to stare at the floor. He wondered if Jesus knew of the evil in him too, of the pleasure he took in seeing Jesus knelt before him, the son of God acting as a house servant. 

Jesus had once told him that there was pleasure in serving and helping, and Judas suddenly thought there was pleasure in being served, too, far more pleasure than there was in serving. 

He blinked harshly and chased those thoughts from his head. 

***

“This is my body, given to you.”

Judas stared at the piece of bread held in his hands. The body of Jesus. Jesus handed bread out to the rest of the Apostles, filled their goblets with red wine. 

“This is my blood, spilled for you.”

Judas swallowed. The Apostles sat silently as Jesus poured. There was a dread in the air. A somber stillness. No one moved. No one looked as Jesus poured his blood for them. Even Judas could not bring himself to look him in the eye. 

Jesus moved back to stand at the middle of the table. “Dip the bread into the wine and eat. Do this in remembrance of me.”

Judas dipped the bread into the wine and ate. There was a burst of light behind his eyes. 

Oh. Oh, no.

Jesus glanced at him, his dark eyes cold. 

Woe to the man who betrays the son of man. 

***

Judas watched as he led Jesus to the garden, watched him hold their hands together, and felt Jesus follow. 

_Please, Jesus, see and understand. Notice._

The Devil had entered him with the bread and wine, had entered him through the body of Christ, and now he had to watch and feel as he led Jesus to the garden. To the crowd gathered there. To the priest.

_Please._

He stopped moving, and turned to face Jesus. Jesus looked at him, his face grave. 

Judas willed him body to move, his mouth to open, but he could not. He just looked back at Jesus, the man who had held the mare with him, had healed her for him.

He heard The Devil cackle, felt his limbs go cold. He could swear his vision was blurring. The Devil whispered to him. 

_I will give you a moment._

Judas gasped. Jesus barely reacted, just gripped his hand tighter. 

“Jesus,” Judas cried.

“Judas,” said Jesus.

“Jesus… You know, don’t you? You know, you know! Please, you know.”

“I know,” said Jesus.

Jesus smiled at him, and Judas drank in his dimples and his hair that curled at his ears. His eyes were warm, again. Judas could weep. 

Judas stepped forward, and kissed him. 

When they parted, he felt his limbs freeze again, and the same burst of light behind his eyes as before. 

“Thank you, Master,” he heard himself say. 

Jesus smiled at him, and for the first time, Judas saw the man who saved him cry. His eyes were warm, still. Even as the priest screamed, and the crowd surged forward to grab at him, to put chains around his wrists, his eyes were still warm, still seeking out the eyes of Judas. 

***

When Judas had left, he felt as The Devil moved on from his body, and collapsed under a tree. 

The Devil had made him do it. It was Satan, it was The Devil. 

“Where there is a seed,” Jesus had once said.

Judas sat under the tree and wept, his hand clawing at the dirt, reaching for a hand that wasn’t there. 

He had always been spineless. 

***

He could not go and see the crucifixion. They had nailed him up with common thieves. 

“They steal because they have nothing,” Jesus had said. “Look at them, really look at them. They steal because they are desperate. That man, he has a child to feed.” 

Judas hated himself. He was wicked. He never learned. 

The priest had given him the silver while The Devil still commanded him. He had kept the silver long after The Devil had left. 

He hated himself.

He used the silver to buy a field, and a scythe. He had contemplated buying a mare, but had decided against it. 

He looked to the heavens before he threw himself onto the scythe and burst himself open in the middle of his field. 

Woe to the man who betrays the son of man. 


End file.
